Bond
by yanjing
Summary: Cloud. Aerith. Tifa. Aftermath. A collection of drabbles linking the tragic past to the living present and the road of the uncertain future. [05: How long has it been since he was just able to just sit and not think?]
1. color

Tifa, Aerith muses, is like the color of water.

When she fell, she got back up yet did not force her way though. She would flow along, adapting herself to the currents of the river. Like water, she was ever changing. She laughs, she screams, she cries, and a million other colors she does.

She sees her laughing when they talk about their past boyfriends

She sees her screaming when Cloud accidentally stumbled in when they were changing.

She sees her crying as she lay here dying.

Aerith smiles.

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-

-

-

The color of water is never definite.

* * *

Because she knew that she will flow on.


	2. hurt

Hollow eyes stared ahead as she leaned against the wall. She stroked the pink ribbon in her hands.

Damn it. She clutched the ribbon tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

It wasn't suppose to be this way. They were suppose to kill Sephiroth, stop Meteor, and go home together.

She didn't know what to do. Cloud was out there somewhere and everyone was moping around. She couldn't say or do anything because she couldn't even help herself let alone others. So now she sat here, waiting. Maybe it was all a dream and she would wake up and she would there smiling brightly like she always did.

Then she looked down at the ribbon and she felt her heart being squeezed so tightly that it would explode.

She wasn't suppose to die. She wasn't suppose to leave them--her like that. She wanted to hate her so much. How could she have let herself be stabbed? She wanted to hate her, for making her care so much, for making her lose another person she loved.

Instead, she hated herself.

She should have done something; instead, she stood there watching him stab right through her. She should have pushed her away, anything. She couldn't protect her, and let her be taken away by the same man that took everything from her. She started to shake.

It wasn't fair. She wrapped her arms around her legs, her head buried in her knees, still shaking.

-

-

-

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She didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Sometimes all she can do is wait.


	3. dance

He remembers the first time they danced. She looked so beautiful; an angel clothed in shimmering red. Her eyes were bright, shining with excitement and her smile was filled with joy. He spun her round and round, until they were both dizzy from laughter (or was it from the spinning).

He remembers all of this, and sees the glinting silver rain. Her eyes, once bright, has dulled, stared listlessly ahead. Her smile, once joyful, was smeared by the unsightly red.

She lies in a sea of deep crimson as he held her once more.

* * *

_Her last dance was with death._


	4. blind

When she saw him again, she wanted to drive her knuckles into his face and grind it hard. That irritating smirk, that aura of superiority; it pissed her beyond comprehension.

And she couldn't a damn thing about it. She knew that he could kill her in one swipe and he was just toying with her. He knew that she knew and that just made everything even worse. Her body was hurt all over and she couldn't stop herself from trembling. She coughed and bright speckled blood smeared the floor before her.

"Get up, girl. Or are you afraid?" He taunted. That infuriating smirk.

Yeah, her whole body hurt all over. She pushed herself up and slipped into a steady stance before charging forward.

But who the hell gives a damn anyway?

* * *

_She charges with blind justice._


	5. today

It's finally over, they cheered happily. Parades filled the streets with bright colors and smiles. Firecrackers went off, the popping sound heard all over the city. And somewhere above, fireworks exploded, scattering stars over the velvet sky.

He doesn't join but watches from a distance, sitting on a railing with his legs daggling down. It isn't over, he would later think, but right now he sits and watches, taking it all in. How long has it been since he was just able to just sit and not think?

Tomorrow he will wake up and everything will come crashing down. He will realize the wounds (both mentally and physically) that have been inflicted. He will see the ruins of cities and lives and wonder if it was worth it. Maybe they would end up all despairing and suffering or maybe they would find the strength to somehow go on.

But not today, today he will watch the colors.

* * *

_He does not want to wonder anymore._


End file.
